Boredom
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: Driven by boredom, Jack and Sayid recruit Hurley to co-write the greatest work of fanfiction E V E R.


Sayid flipped to another channel. Ever since the season finale of _Misplaced_, it just seemed as if there wasn't anything worth watching anymore. There was nothing but a vast ocean of reality television programs.

He lingered a moment on _So You Think You Can Crochet_? As alluring as that Afghan was (she had long, slender fingers that glided effortlessly through the work, and the judges clearly loved her, although Sayid wondered whether there wasn't a hint of political correctness involved; had she been a native of Texas instead, would they have raved so adamantly about her full-size, shell triangle pattern?), she only made him think of Nadia, and he switched the channel quickly.

With Nadia dead and gone, and a short respite between assassinations (He needed to clean that 9mm, didn't he? Maybe he could get started on that during the commercials), Sayid was really struggling to fill the empty void of time. At least Kate had dumped Jack, which meant he now had a T.V. companion.

_Pop, hiss._ Jack stretched his hand out to Sayid, a cold beer lodged in his palm. Sayid noted the dirt beneath his fingernails. The doctor could obviously benefit from a sports manicure. "Beer?" Jack asked.

"No thank you. I don't drink," Sayid replied with condescension.

"Why not?"

Sayid turned his wary eyes upon the doctor. "Muslim," he said, in a voice that told Jack the answer should have been obvious.

"Ah. But you _will _have sex with blonde infidels who are 16 years younger than you on the beach, right?"

Sayid took the beer. "Very well, if you insist."

Jack used the opportunity to steal the remote control, and he soon settled on Last Fanfiction Writer Standing. "This just isn't as good this season," he said. "It's like all the fanfic writers keep rehashing the same old material they were using in the first show. You'd think they didn't have any inspiration at all."

Sayid tilted his head slightly in quiet consideration. He turned to Jack. Jack turned to him. "Are you contemplating what I am contemplating?" Sayid asked.

"Hell yes," said Jack. "Joint effort. The best piece of fanfiction ever."

Sayid rose from the couch and ran to get a writing instrument. Jack settled back into the cushions.

They would need Hurley for this monumental effort. Oh, yes, they would need Hurley, but then they would create a masterpiece, and all their misery would be temporarily forgotten.

Hurley sat in the Thinker's pose, his chubby chin resting ponderously on his fingertips, as his soft eyes ruminated. "Well…dudes…then…how about X-files?"

Sayid shook his head slowly—and ever so slightly—refusing to raise too obvious a protest, but nevertheless making his displeasure apparent.

"Come on!" exclaimed Jack. "Are you going to shoot down every idea?"

Sayid shrugged the bronze shoulders that were only partially covered by the wife beater that had come to be like a close friend to him. He leaned back into the leather cushions of the couch. "My preferences do not tend toward redheads."

Hurley laughed.

Jack sighed with world-weary breath and defeated, puppy dog eyes. "This isn't the Dating Game," he said. "It's Last Fanfiction Writer Standing, and we have to agree on a T.V. show before we can write a story. How about Buffy? You like dumb blondes who run around at night, right?"

"Dude!" exclaimed Hurley, now lifting his bulk to a standing position. "Dude!" he repeated to draw attention to his brilliant revelation. "Dude!"

"Yes, Hurley," Sayid interrupted his litany with resigned condescension, "what is it?"

"That's it! The Dating Game! We can write an episode of the Dating Game, with everyone from the island."

"You've got to be kidding." Jack threw an arm on the back of the sofa and half-smiled. "The Dating Game? No one writes gameshow fanfiction."

"Exactly, dude. Can you imagine how original it would be? We could like, launch a totally new genre!"

"Rad," intoned Sayid sarcastically, rolling his eyes almost imperceptibly. "Yet, I think I might find it necessary to indulge in a few more beers before I join your efforts."

Jack let one arm fall down to the cooler near his feet. He tossed Sayid a Budweiser.

"You're a doctor. Is this really the best you can afford?" Sayid asked, cracking open the can.

"You have nothing to compare it to. Why are you complaining? Now get drinking so we can start writing."

"Oh yeah," said Hurley, nodding his head with excited anticipation, "best episode of the Dating Game – E-V-E-R!"

**/***/**

_And now, welcome your host of the Dating Game…" drum roll sounds "Benjamin Linus!"_

Sayid, who had been taking dictation because, between the doctor and the 20-something chubby-fingered kid, he had the neatest handwriting, dropped his pen with exasperation on the spiraled, college-ruled notebook. (Jack had originally supplied him with a wide ruled notebook, but Sayid had raised his eyes with disdain. "What am I?" he had asked. "A grammar school student?") "Hurley," he now said, "Surely you are not in earnest. You do not intend to write that draconian, manipulative, little jinn of a man into our work of fanfiction. Do you? He's already been controlling our lives in the real world; do you really want to allow him authority in the fanfiction world as well?"

"Okay, dude, think about it. He'd make a great Dating Game show host. He totally likes being in charge, playing games, knowing stuff the contestants don't know, using women as bait…I mean, think about it, man. If only someone had given him a job on the Dating Game, he could have used his powers for good instead of evil."

Sayid sighed.

"He has a point," Jack reasoned, rubbing his grizzled beard. He was going to have to shave it. He was beginning to look like a cave man. But if he shaved it, for a couple of days he would be completely clean shaven, and he would look like an unmanly, simpering little boy child. It was a lot of work to maintain that three-day stubble. He glanced at Sayid. It wasn't fair. The man looked good whether he had a beard or cheeks as smooth as a baby's bottom. He didn't have to work meticulously to cultivate that five o'clock shadow the way Jack did. He could just shave it all off or grow it out. It didn't matter. It was unjust, really, the way fate had saddled the doctor with such a dismal facial hair dilemma.

"Uh…dude…" Hurley began to shift uncomfortably in the arm chair where he was wedged, "Why do you keep stroking your cheek like that? It's kind of creepy."

"Oh, ummm…" Jack lowered his hand. "Sorry. Didn't notice."

Sayid stared straight ahead, as though he had observed nothing. He'd learned how to do that in the Republican Guard when people were being strapped to battery wires, so it was really very easy to do in the case of Jack's behavior. "Shall we continue writing then?" he asked. He picked up his pen and pressed it's point against the page.

_"Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to the new edition of the Dating Game. I'm your host – Benjamin Linus!" applause "And welcome to our contestant, Shannon Rutherford, who will be choosing from five eligible bachelors – "_

"Whoa whoa – " interrupted Jack

Sayid simultaneously said, "I have a slight objection – " Hearing Jack, the Iraqi nodded graciously to him to allow him to voice his concern first.

"There are only three contestants in the Dating Game," Jack reminded Hurley.

"And Shannon cannot be the female contestant."

"Dude, why not?"

Sayid smiled slightly. "Well…for one…she's presently deceased…"

"It's fanfiction dude. It's a world where ANYTHING you want can happen."

"Well, I cannot say I would prefer to have Shannon select from among five men, at least four of whom are not me."

"Oh. But she was totally the hottest girl on the island. And I thought we'd bring the contestants up to five just to have more fun. Then we could include some of our old friends."

"Kate's not bad," mused Jack. He looked at Sayid. "Really, don't you think? I mean, I know Shannon—"

"I propose," Sayid suggested, "that we choose a woman in whom none of us has a particular interest. Sun, perhaps."

Hurley shifted his foot coyly from side to side. He moved uncomfortably in the big arm chair and looked away. "Uh…I wouldn't say…no one…particular….interest…I mean…Jin…but…if it weren't for…"

"Really?" asked Jack.

Sayid just raised an eyebrow.

"Claire?" asked Jack.

"Well…dude…" Hurley looked exceedingly uncomfortable. "I wouldn't say…no one…interest…I mean…Charlie…but…"

"Hurley," Sayid asked softly, " was there any woman on the island in whom you did not have a particular interest?"

"Dude…that's kind of why I started with Shannon."

Sayid tensed. "You had an interest in every woman save Shannon? Why did you not have an interest in Shannon? Surely there is no reason you should not have an interest in Shannon. Shannon most certainly should have inspired an interest in you."

"Uh…." Hurley's blue eyes turned sheepishly to Sayid. "Are you really upset because I didn't have the hots for your girlfriend? She just wasn't my type, dude. That's all. I kind of like them…you know…more…nice to people."

Sayid crossed his arms over his chest and sat back sulkily into the couch.

"What about Rose?" Jack suggested.

Sayid shrugged resignedly.

"Well…at least we'd be the only ones writing fanfiction about her," Hurley said. "I mean, how many Kate and Claire and Shannon stories can a person take, really?"

"Rose it is then," Sayid declared. "Now can we finish this masterpiece before we entirely deplete our supply of beer?"

/***/

"Dude, Rawyer sounds so much better."

"My preference remains," Sayid shook his head with stern determination. "Not Rawyer, but rather Sose. The ship ought to be dubbed Sose."

Hurley tented his hands together and placed them thoughtfully beneath his nose. His blue eyes ruminated. At length, he pulled himself up into a resolved sitting position. "Ships have to have more than one letter from each name. That's just the way it has to play out. I don't make the rules."

The doctor took a sip from his Harp. Sayid had insisted on making a trip to the store to purchase higher quality adult beverages before he would consent to continuing the fanfiction writing session. "Uh…dude…are you fit to drive?" Hurley had asked, to which the Iraqi had replied with a superior stare and a reminder: "I snapped a man's neck with my legs after staying up for 24 hours straight. Would you surmise that I might manage to drive a car after consuming six beers in three hours?" The cooler to the left of Jack was now stocked with an assortment of Bass, Harp, Guinness, and Sam Adams.

As Jack dug for a beer he said, "Then why was everyone always betting on whether Jate or Skate would consummate first?"

Hurley's eyes grew wide and embarrassed.

"You think I didn't know? It was a small camp. You hear all the gossip—even the stuff about yourself."

"Jack raises a pertinent point." Sayid took a leisurely sip of his beer. "Both of those ship names had but a single letter from the male. The remainder of the name comes from the female, just as does my proposal—Sose. It seems only appropriate that the woman should have the larger part of the name, just as she has the larger share of the power in the relationship."

Jack snorted. He took a swig of his newly opened bottled. "They have all the power," he muttered as he leaned back deep into the cushions. "They can play you like a cheap piano, all the while keeping one hand on the strings of the other guy."

Hurley shrugged. "The female of the species is more deadly than the male. Kipling."

Jack and Sayid looked at him with surprise.

"Hey, I totally read more than Spanish comic books. I still think Rawyer just sounds cooler. Besides, since you're a contestant on the show, too Sayid, what would we call that relationship? Sose 1.2?"

Sayid half-smiled. "It's irrelevant, as I won't be winning the contest."

"How do you know? We haven't written it yet."

"Given the choice between a life-saving gentleman doctor, a blonde underwear model, a hopelessly romantic Scottish Dickens fan, a multibillionaire, and a messiah-prophet with superb hunting and tracking skills, do you really think she will opt for the former Republican Guard torturer who now labors as an assassin?"

"You shouldn't sell yourself so short, dude. It's more like a choice between two drunks, two nutcases, and two conmen."

Sayid closed his eyes heavily. "You're exactly right. In a sense I've taken up Sawyer's profession, haven't I?"

"I always thought you two were a lot alike." Jack leaned over to review the beer selection. "Hey!" he said, suddenly concerned. "Did someone invite girls over? This was just supposed to be us guys writing!" He felt his chin nervously. "I haven't shaved. No one said we were having girls."

"What are you talking about?" Sayid asked. "Certainly no one has invited any women."

"Then what's with the Mike's Hard Lemonade?"

Sayid's jaw set firmly. His eyes burned in masculine warning. "I merely wanted to sample the black cherry variety. There's nothing girlish about black cherry." He turned to Hurley. "Go ahead. Call the ship Rawyer, and if I win, it will be Sose."

"Rawyer, Sose, Resmond, Rack, Rocke, and Rurley," Jack said loudly. "Let's be done with it already! Rawyer, Sose, Resmond, Rack, Rocke, and Rurley. Everyone agreed?"

"Very well," muttered Sayid, "but I still think the woman should have the larger share of the name. Rosmond, Jose, Lose, and Hose."

"Hose? Lose? Dude. I mean…dude."

Sayid threw up a hand in resignation. "I said very well. Very well. Rawyer, Sose, Resmond, Rack, Rocke and Rurely it is. Now let us compose."

_/***/_

_"Our bachelorette today is a recovering cancer victim who has vacationed far and wide, including a trip to Australia. She's looking for a man who doesn't mind being lectured to. Which of our six lucky bachelor's will she choose today? Rose, you'll have a chance to ask questions of our hidden bachelors, at the end of which you'll choose just one. Say hi to our handsome contestants, Rose."_

_"Hello, boys." _

The pen made a scratching sound against the writing tablet as Sayid brought it to an abrupt halt. "One thing is troubling me," he said. "One not so small matter." He took another drink of his beer, this time a swig and not a sip. Now that the quality of the selection had improved, he was drinking less leisurely. The Mike's Hard Black Cherry had proven delectable, but after one bottle, Sayid had been forced to admit that it possessed an overly girlish sweetness and that drinking it therefore implied, whether rightly or wrongly, that the drinker was not man enough to genuinely enjoy the taste of alcohol.

He was now imbibing a Guinness, because the scientist in him had been duly impressed by the design of the can, which allowed a draft like pour into the beer mugs the Iraqi had forced the doctor to dig out of his upper cupboards. Sayid had early resolved to join the Jack in the drinking, but there was only so long he could throw back from a can. Perhaps the wifebeater he so comfortably donned belied his gentility.

Sayid did not know why he had eschewed alcohol so long, when he had already cast off all other vestiges of his birth religion except prayer. It wasn't as if the alcohol affected him. All that preaching against the way it made one lose control of oneself…obviously that didn't apply to _him_. He felt quite fine and very much in control.

"Hmprmph?" asked Jack, who had nearly nodded off but who was now drawn to attention. "What's your problem with it?"

"Why would a married woman be seeking a date on the Dating Game?"

"Well, we could totally kill Bernard off," suggested Hurley.

Sayid winced. "Why would we want to?"

"Dude? Point." Hurley nodded.

"Who wanted to write in Rose in the first place?" asked Jack. "Let's go back to Shannon. Any of us would do her, right, Hurley? Right? Even if she isn't nice, you'd _**do **_her, right?" he asked, spilling his beer onto the floor and cursing.

Sayid glanced at the damage and raised an eyebrow. "I realize you are imbrbriated," – he paused for a moment and concentrated - "I mean inebriated, but if you could please refrain from referref" – he paused again, concentrating harder this time – "referring to my former girlfriend as an object to be **done**, I would appreciate it."

Jack's mouth fell slightly open and his eyes took on that glaze they always did when he tried to look threatening, but, as usual, he just ended up looking overwhelmed. "Yeah? And what if I _don't_."

Sayid put down his mug and lifted the bottle that Jack had let fall to the floor. He ran a finger up the neck of it and slid it slowly around the rim until it whistled. The sound grew to an amazingly high pitch. He stopped suddenly. "You don't want to discover what else I am capable of doing with the neck of a bottle, once it is fractured from its base."

"Okay…let's just lighten the mood, okay?" Hurley wasn't drinking any beers. They didn't mix well with his anti-psychotic medications. "You know…get back to writing? Have fun? Best piece of fanfiction ever? Remember? Eye on the ball, dudes, eye on the ball."

"Why not just make Sayid the bachelor and let him choose from three bachelorettes?" Jack asked scornfully. "He gets all the girls anyway. Put Shannon in there and go ahead and put Kate and Juliet too – I never got ANY of them anyway, at least not for long." He sniffed loudly. "Even though people were talking about Jacket – and it was ALL my name with just two letters of hers tacked on – I still didn't end up with her either!"

Sayid put the bottle back on the floor and reclaimed his own mug. He raised his beer slowly to his lips. He seemed to think a moment, and then he lowered it. "That's not an unbreesonble – _un-reas-on-a-ble _- proposal," he said.

Jack moaned, "I didn't mean for you to take me up on it. Why don't I ever get the girls?"

"Uh… because…okay….I hate to say it…" interjected Hurley, "but…because…like you've had I don't know how many chances, and you just don't grab the bull by the horns, dude. That's all I can say. Like, Sayid…he sees an opening, and he totally moves in and then completely bogarts the chick. No triangles or anything. If anyone tries to make a triangle, he gives them the death stare. Just saying."

Sayid reached over and patted Jack affectionately on the back. "I love you, Jack." His eyes glowed with the warm after-effects of the beer. "I love you, my friend. Did I ever tell you that? You be the bachelor. You have six bachelorettes to choose from. Choose anyone you want. Except Shannon. Or Nadia. Or that woman I slept with and then shot to death. I can't remember her name right now, but I fell utterly in love with her, and you must not have her. But any other girl Jack," he hugged him around the shoulders, "any other girl, absolutely any – I say! That lamp is beautiful!" He stood suddenly and walked over and began to examine the solid tan lampshade. "See how the light plays around the edges; it reminds me of the sunset on the beach after a night of passion. It's so beautiful."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence until Hurley said, "Uh…dude? Stop staring at the lamp and sit down, okay? We're going to make Rousseau the contestant."

"Rousseau!" shouted Sayid. "Pure genius. She's not used very often, no one here had or wanted a ship with her, unless you count that little spark I manufactured to free myself from her torturous grip…"

"I like it," nodded Jack. "I definitely like it. High five." He raised his hand, palm up.

"I love you, man." Sayid gave the doctor a great bear hug.

Hurley chortled and said, "Separate corners. No way we're writing any slash dudes." He went to fetch a new tablet of paper.


End file.
